Convincing
by Culumacilinte
Summary: BenIan slashy goodness. It's after the events of the movie- Ian is in jail, and he requests an audience with Ben to try and get off on some of his charges. Ben requires some convinving. Ian complies.


Convincing

Pairing: Ben Gates/Ian Howe

Summary: Set post-movie. Ian, obviously, is in jail, and he requests an audience with Ben, to try to get him to remove some of his charges. Ben requires convincing. Ian complies.

Warning: Slash! If men on men is not your thing, then get thee gone!

Ian Howe sat in a small, windowless, ugly beige-colored room in the New York Police headquarters, waiting. He was waiting for Benjamin Franklin Gates, a friend and former partner, who was coming to talk about possibly lessening the charges he had been arrested for, and was going to be tried for. Now, Ben was a man full of ideals about justice and righteousness, and he couldn't bluff to save his life, so, Ian reasoned, he'd be fairly easy to manipulate. This time tomorrow, he'd be a free man. Possibly less a few hundred bucks, but free nonetheless.

There was a soft click as the bulletproof steel door was opened, and Ben Gates was led in. As he saw Ian lounging on his metal folding chair, utterly at ease, a slight smile curled the corner of his mouth.

"Hello, Ben. You're looking well."

The greeting from Ian was as courteous as ever, and not at all strained, as if he wasn't, in fact, a detainee sitting in a police building, about to be bargaining for his freedom.

"Ian." Ben inclined his head in the blonde man's direction. "Thank you. Such a pity I can't say the same about your situation."

Ian smiled wryly. "I share your sentiment, to be sure. So, I assume you know why you're here?"

"You want to get off on some of your charges." It was not a question.

"That's about right, yes. You feel up to helping me? I'm sure with your silver tongue and vocabulary the size of Montana, you could make at least a slight dent in my, ah… sentence."

"Well yes, but-" Ben hesitated, looking awkwardly at Ian. "Well, I hate to say it, as you are my friend, but you did perpetrate all the crimes you were charged with. And I would like to help, but I'm not sure if I can, in good conscience. And, well, you were going to leave us down in the treasure room to rot."

He grinned halfheartedly, fixing the man opposite him with an almost pleading look. Ian just laughed and smiled disarmingly at Ben. "Oh, come off it. I knew you'd find a way out. I mean, there had to be one, and if anyone was going to find it, it had to be you."

"You drew a gun on us, Ian."

"Well, yes…" Ian fumbled for a moment. "I was a bit, ah, caught up in the heat of things, you understand. I never would've actually shot you."

Ben fell silent. He honestly didn't know what to think. Ian had been his good friend, his confidant, his financier, his drinking buddy, but then, at the blink of an eye, he had turned against him. Just like that. Ben would've liked to believe that Ian could still be trusted, but, well…

There was an awkward silence in which both men stared uncomfortably at nothing at all, breaking the silence only occasionally with a cough or a tap of the foot. Finally, Ian rose and faced Ben.

"Ok, Ben," he said, "I'll make you a wager. I am willing to bet that I can change your mind about trying to get me off without saying a single word."

Ben arched an elegant eyebrow.

"Oh? And how do you propose to do that?"

Ian simply smirked and shrugged

"Use your imagination."

Ben frowned at that, recalling the context of Ian's last usage of that particular turn of phrase, but Ian just laughed when he saw the worry creasing the other man's brow.

"Oh, there's no need to worry, friend. This conversation is being recorded. I say anything that could be even remotely construed as a threat, and we'll have a squad of coppers rushing in here to save you from the fearsome criminal I undoubtedly am."

"Do I detect a hint of bitterness?"

"Perhaps."

There was a silence then, as the two men stood, looking at one another, one considering and slightly smug, the other pensive and worried.

"So Ben, what do you say to my wager?"

Ben grinned. For all Ian had done, he was still a friend.

"All right. Do your worst, old man!"

Ian grinned dangerously and raised a brow

"My worst? Oh, I don't think you'd like that, Ben. But I shall do as much as I feel is… necessary."

"So…" Ben looked Ian directly in the face, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his clear blue eyes. "Convince me."

Ian stood, utterly silent, just as he had promised, and regarded Ben with a curious look in his eye. He cocked his head and reached forward to tip Ben's chin up with two fingers. Narrowing his eyes, he searched Ben's face, which was set with a mixture of defiance, curiosity, and apprehension. Almost inadvertently, his gaze slipped down, raking over Ben's tense body. A shiver rippled through him at the images flashing through his mind, and he smiled suddenly, a shamelessly feral and lustful grin that raised goosebumps on Ben's skin. And then, without a moments notice, he shoved Ben against the wall and kissed him.

Ben's eyes widened, and for a moment, he contemplated trying to pull away, but there was nowhere to go, and Ian was pressed against him far too hard, anyway. He struggled feebly for a moment, trying desperately not to give in to the insistent pressure of those lips. Ian's lips were chapped, and tasted faintly of cherry and wax. They were soft and yielding against his, and _Oh God_ that was a tongue, and _Ben, stop thinking like that! _ But it was too late. Ian's tongue was sinfully sweet, velvety wetness as it twined with his, slow and languorous, and at that, his resistance crumbled and he melted against the wall.

And suddenly, with a jolt that threatened to bring him back to reality, he realized that he was kissing back, with just as much passion as Ian himself. The kiss was bruisingly rough- hard and violent and insistent- nothing like what a first kiss ought to be, but… by the pagan gods, it was delicious. Ben almost wondered, with what was left of his senses, why he'd all his life, he'd been so resolutely heterosexual. The slight stubble gracing Ian's chin scratched against his skin, sending a thrill of arousal crackling through him, and he moaned, leaning ever so slightly into the other man.

There was a hiss of pleasure from Ian as he broke away with a small tug on Ben's lower lip, which was now red and somewhat swollen from kissing.

"Well? I got you convinced?"

Ben blinked, looking dazed. His eyes, normally so clear and bright, were dark with arousal, and he stammered for a moment, lost for words first time since Ian had met him three years before.

"I, uh… I mean-yeah, yeah. Most definitely convinced…"

Ian smirked, and licked his lips.

"Toldja."


End file.
